The Passionate Evil
by coolbyrne
Summary: When faced with a choice between doing what is right and what is necessary, what would we do? Tony POV


TITLE: The Passionate Evil  
AUTHOR: coolbyrne  
RATING: PG  
DISCLAIMER: Imagine that- still not mine.  
SUMMARY: When faced with a choice between doing what is right and what is necessary, what would we do? (Tony POV)  
SPOILERS: If you haven't seen "Sharp Compassion", I spoil the ending.  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: A really short story! Not even 1000 words, which is a first for me, but as I watched this episode again, this little bit came to me and sparked my muse. I'm counting this as my March installment! LOL! (See a review of "Reprise" for the joke.) Thanks to papiliondae who even betas my author's notes! Is there no end to your quest for perfection? :p

--

This is the very worst wickedness, that we refuse to acknowledge the passionate evil that is in us. This makes us secret and rotten – DH Lawrence.

--

Laws are the rules by which the morality game is played.

Somewhere along the line, society sifted and pored over every option and came up with a scale that measured what was good and what was bad. We grow up learning these rules, even if we don't quite realize it at the time. And by the time we're adults, we know full well that _this_ is bad, and so is _this_, and so is _this_, and so on. Laws never tell us what's good, but unlike so much of the world around us, there is little room for gray in the rules. So, if _this_ is bad, then it's only logical that the opposite is good. Stealing is bad, so not stealing is good. Killing is bad, so not killing is good. One instance where a negative is in fact a positive.

Of course, one would only have to look at my patient list on any given day to realize how easily those rules are broken, and often in the most grotesque and unimaginable ways possible. Yet it's not as simple as pointing a psychological finger and saying, "See this little spot here on your brain? That's why you broke the rule." One would only have to look at Carol's conviction sheet on any given day to realize it can happen to any of us. Some are driven by simple greed, some by guilt, fear or anger. Even I'm not immune to breaking the rules; I have taken a life with my own hands. However, as a long and complicated set of rules is wont to have, there was a footnote that excused my actions. I had broken a rule in the process of preventing someone else from breaking one. I killed someone in order to prevent them from killing me.

I make this admission simply to point out how difficult it really is to follow the rules when faced with the consequences. Oh, it's nothing to not kill, not steal, not destroy, when our everyday lives rarely put us in a position to even contemplate the options. It's quite another when someone has you chained up to a medieval torture device and you're just another in a long list of victims.

And it's quite another when someone you love is four feet away from you, with a murderer behind her and a scalpel pressed against her throat.

A war is raging between the logic in my head and the feeling in my heart. I look at Colin, who has the weapon laid dangerously close to Carol's windpipe, and I know that he is not like this, not really. Yes, he is a murderer, but not like this. I can talk him out of the situation, this stand-off between him, Carol and me.

"Colin," I tell him, "don't do this. This isn't who we are. I know you heal people." This seems to appease him in some way and I sneak a glance at Carol. The fear in the eyes of the one person who means everything to me stops my logic right in its tracks and I have to look away immediately. Ignoring the knot of dread in my heart, I try to return my attention to Colin and I whisper, "Don't be scared." Tears begin to sting my eyes and fear has now begun to manifest itself as rage, the heat burning through my chest. I acknowledge logic for what it is, but have made a silent, vengeful pact with myself that I will do whatever I must to keep Carol safe. Whatever is necessary.

I've just clenched my shaking hands into fists when I register two hospital security guards have appeared behind Colin. In the ensuing confusion, Carol twists Colin's arm and escapes as I lean forward to take the weapon out of his hand. In a flash, he turns it on me and, as he attempts his last ditch effort to get away, the tip pierces through the palm of my right hand. I recoil sharply. It's only when I look over to make sure Carol is all right, does the pain register in my mind. Instinctively I press my palms together to stop the bleeding and relieve the pain. Hazarding a look down, I open my palms to assess the damage. Nothing major, nothing to worry about. I look up again at Carol. She is quiet in the corner but meets my gaze and asks me if I'm all right. I can only nod. She comes over to me, cradles my hand in hers.

"You're bleeding. Let me get a doctor."

Now I shake my head. "I'm fine, Carol. I'm fine."

She looks into my eyes –I mean, really looks. Is she searching to see if I'm telling the truth? Or is she searching for that man whom I didn't know existed in me until two minutes ago? She looks down at my hand and strokes it gently.

"You're bleeding," she says again, unnecessarily.

I shrug and attempt a smile. "It's only blood." I stop from saying what's really on my mind –it could have just as easily been Colin's blood, without a second thought. But she's been frightened enough for one day without hearing that admission. Besides I'm not sure it's one I'm willing to contemplate. Instead, I submit to her gentle arm around my shoulder as she walks us to the doorway where she flags down a medic.

-end


End file.
